Do you like to party? Do you?? Well if you don’t, that’s tough: these guys have only one item on their crazed indie pop agenda, and that is to drive you through the ceiling in their musical partymobile. This record starts in turbo drive and never, ever slows down. It’s jam-packed with pounding piano, shredding shrieks, raging tambourine (who knew tambourines could rage?), and inexcusably zany – yes, zany – synth. If you ever find yourself yearning for all those stompy indie earworms circa 2004, you will find what you pine for in shed loads on this record, and they’ve been cranked up past eleven. It’s worth mentioning that if you never got into all those floppy-fringed, drainpipe-sporting, NME-dwelling pups, you will find this album utterly exhausting and will be looking for a rolled up copy of the Guardian to whack your CD player with. You’ve been warned.

By Polly Rappaport

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